The countess' dream
by SilverSatori
Summary: Romania, 15th century. They feared her. Called her the warrior countess. But truly, her life had been a sad one. How could she have become like this? [Fem!Alucard; completely random] As requested not a OS anymore.
1. What is and what never should be

**The Countess' Dream**

_Sighisohara, Walachia, 1442 _

Vladimira dashed around the corner, her new armor tinkling loudly. It was heavy and despite her strong muscles she was still an eleven-year-old girl and her brother had not much trouble keeping up. She dodged his hands and made a run for the door.

There were steps and the voice of her father, discussing some politic affairs. Vladimira stopped dead and retreated from the door. Mircea brushed his hands over her hair. "Don't be so stubborn, little sister. It's not for long."

She scowled, but allowed him to pick her up. Mircea groaned. "Are you that heavy or is it the armor? When you come back, I won't be able to do that anymore." He laughed.

"But you said it won't be for long."

"You're growing too fast, that's all. In the end you might be taller than me."

She looked at him with big eyes. "Really?"

Mircea laughed. "Maybe. We'll see." He saw her get sad again and brushed her dark hair away. It was always hanging in her face, he thought, like she didn't want anyone to see it. And that while being pretty as a picture. Vladimira pressed her face against his neck. "Do I really have to go?", she asked miserably.

"I promise it will not be for long. Father is doing everything to help you. Besides, if not you, who will look after Radu?"

"He can look after himself," she grumbled. Tears stung in her eyes. Father was sending them to the Ottoman Sultan as a dead pledge. To show he would not attack the Turks. He was not just breaking the Dragon's oath, he was sending away his children.

"Oh, Mira," her older brother sighed. Then he lowered his voice, even though they were alone. "Don't do anything endangering you or your brother. Just obey until we get you back. And never, never give up," he whispered. "Never, you understand?"

"_Da_," she answered, her throat tight.

She felt Mircea smile. "Good. Don't forget to pray, even among the heathens, _da_? I love you, little sister. When we meet again, we'll celebrate."

_Castle Egrigötz, Ottoman Empire, 1448_

"The Sultan has summoned you." Vladimira got up. She wished she could just refuse. This dirty heathen bastard. But she had no choice. They would drag her there anyway and she could do without another whipping. Six years she had been in the hands of the Turks now. At least she was not in a cell anymore, forced to do whatever the warden wanted. He would get the best stake of them all when his time came. And someday it would come. She prayed to God every night. Giving up was out of the question, of course. But she wished she could have concealed being a woman longer. Unwillingly, she entered the throne room, almost tripping over her long skirt. She hated this thing. Trousers were so much better.

The Sultan sat on his throne. Radu was at his side, the beautiful Radu, who listened to every word and obeyed the heathens. Who had become a heathen himself. The traitor.

Vladimira stopped in front of the throne and implied a bow. "Yes?"

A fist hit her neck. She gasped, pain shooting through her body, and fell to her knees. But she didn't scream. She would never scream because of them. They would never break her.

The Sultan watched her with a smile. She straightened up. "You wanted to see me, padischah?" After so long she spoke fluent Turkish.

The sultan nodded, satisfied by her abasement. "Indeed, my dear. It concerns your family." He grinned even more. Pain was the only thing he always saw fit for her, no matter what reason.

Radu looked pale. Vladimira felt her insides turning cold, but her face stayed unmoved. In the course of the last six years she had learned to conceal her feelings well. Showing emotions only led to more pain.

"Unfortunately we only got this news now. At the end of the last year in your calculation, your brother has been captured by the Hungarians. The report says he was blinded with hot iron rods." Mira said nothing. "Also, they hacked his limbs off in little pieces, just so he didn't die. I can imagine it to be horrible, the screams and the blood, right?" She didn't move. "And when they were finished, limbless, eyeless, then they sewed his mouth shut with a thick thread and buried him alive." He watched her, waiting for a movement, a sign of pain or sorrow. Vladimira didn't move. She thought at the last time they had seen each other, four years ago, when father sent him to the sultan for business and to check on her. He had repeated his words from two years before. _Never give up. No matter what happens. _

Disappointed, the sultan went on. "I would have spared you this horrible news as long as possible, but now that your father has been killed as well, you need to claim the throne for yourself. Hm? Ah, of course. Nobody knows what exactly happened to him. I was told he was captured in the swamps of your country. They tortured him to death, smashing his limbs before they left him to die and dumped him in the swamps."

Pain screamed inside of her. Vladimira felt dizzy. _Never give up. No matter what happens. _

The sultan frowned. "It is unheard of to give a position of power to a woman, but the population will be more satisfied with a known ruler."

Vladimira nodded, her face blank. The sultan was obviously not satisfied, but had no reason to let her stay longer. "You can go now." She got up, bowed deeply, maybe for the first time without internally throwing insults at him, and left.

The gurgling of the river was peaceful. It made her angry. She picked up a stone and threw it on the shining surface. It sank with a little _blub_. This didn't do. Why was this country so beautiful? It had no right to look like that. The sky should fall down and crush those sons and daughters of dogs. And not just these, the Hungarians, too. They didn't deserve a minute of life more. Not while her father was rotting in the swamps and her brother had died slowly and in agony. Radu had told her the Sultan had exaggerated. But Mircea had really been blinded and buried alive.

Vladimira had her legs drawn to her chest and her face burrowed in her arms. Her sleeves were soaked by now. And still sobs shook her slender body. "It's not right! Just not right! They will pay for this! Every last one of them!" Shakily she drew in air. "Oh Mircea... Father..." Angrily she wiped her face, which only made it worse. She burrowed in the thick fabric again. She felt like she was ripped apart inside, rage and sorrow fighting for the lead. Her mind was a chaos of memories, helplessness and swears of revenge. Vladimira wished she could scream her pain into the sky, but she could not afford anyone to hear her.

"Are you alright?" She froze. The boy spoke Turkish, so he probably hadn't understood a word of what she had said.

"Go away," she said without raising her head. Her voice was rough.

She heard him sitting down beside her. "Bad news?", he asked. She nodded.

In the end Vladimira couldn't tell how long they had sat there in silence, but eventually she said. "My family was killed."

"I'm sorry," he said, uncomfortable. "You're not from here, are you? Where do you come from?"

"Far away. I'll return there soon." More silence. "What's your name?"

"Ahmed. Yours?"

"Vladimira." Now she raised her head after all and wiped her face. The boy was Turkish and about her age, with a round face. He wore the dress of the common man around here. Why was he still here anyway? She could do without all those dogs trying to break her. Had the sultan sent him to control her?

Ahmed automatically put a little distance between them. "You- You're a girl?", he asked.

"Is that so shocking?", she snapped. Really, he looked as if she had just admitted to being an evil spirit wanting to take his soul. Maybe he was really just a passer-by.

The sun was already setting. If she missed her archery lessons, she would get whipped again or thrown into that cell. She stood up. "I have to go. Goodbye, Ahmed."

"G-Goodbye...", he stuttered. "Vladimira." It was funny, hearing her name pronounced like that. She couldn't remember the sultan or any of his men call her by name, even after six years. She could even manage a smile for him. Maybe not all Turks were evil bastards after all.

_Two weeks later_

"You will depart for Walachia soon, my dear." The Sultan smiled a disgusting smile, probably trying to be charming. Vladimira nodded. She would finally be at least a bit away from them. The only thing she regretted was leaving Ahmed behind. They had met at the river now and then, talking and becoming something similar to friends.

"What about Radu?" He was younger than her, but in fact he was the next male heir.

"Ah, no, Radu will stay here, I'm afraid." She nodded. Radu had been corrupted anyway. She didn't want him around her any more than necessary. Should he stay here and rot in this heathen hole.

The sultan laid a hand on her shoulder. Vladimira was disciplined enough not to tense. That might give him a reason for a punishment even now. "We still have a little time, so I want to give you something else on your way. Maybe you might want to use it to rule your country? If you plan to do so, you should know how impaling is done correctly, don't you think?"

She nodded. Why not? She would need to experiment, but she had already a few good ideas for those who had killed her brother and father. The sultan walked her out of the castle personally.

"We captured a traitor and thought he might be the perfect example."

They stepped out of the huge gate. The enforcers already had a stake at hand and the traitor held down. It was a boy of Vladimira's age, desperately pleading for his life and praying to Allah aloud. His panicked eyes met hers and Vladimira felt all color leave her face.

Ahmed.

Of course. She was not allowed to have any friends. Because that would ease her pain. The oiled stake was readied. Ahmed was stripped naked. His pleads turned into screams soon. The sultan's hand lay on Vladimira's shoulder. She didn't make an attempt at moving. Her body was frozen.

Distantly, she heard herself ask: "What did he do?"

"He betrayed us to the Hungarians. Explained our structures to them. Like this it should take him about two days to die. Do you think this is fitting?"

Vladimira slowly shook her head. The sultan played surprised. "Really? Well then I leave the choice to you. I think it is, but you will rule, so you will inflict the punishments. End his suffering here and now." Her hand felt the hilt of her sword. Ahmed screamed again. Blood was running down his legs and his body was twisted in agony. The noise rang in her ears, drowning out anything else. She drew her sword and slowly stepped forward.

Her friend was beyond help, she knew this. She was doing him a favor. One swing of her sword ended his pain. The head fell to the grass, the face still twisted, but a bit more peaceful now. At least she hoped so. Hot blood had splattered on her face. Vladimira sheathed her sword and turned away, walking briskly to the horse that would bring her home.

_Castle Poienari, 1462_

Vladimira didn't bother to even take off her armor. All she wanted was to see her family again. But when she entered the room with the fireplace, it was empty. Except for the usual resident, the whole castle seemed deserted. She looked around and heard a quiet giggle.

"Weird," she said aloud. "I wonder where everybody is? And that after I came home with presents."

There was a brief silence. Then small feet running over the stone. "Mother!" Vladimira knelt down and the children rushed into her arms. Minhea still tripped over his feet sometimes, being only three. Iulia, his nine year old sister, pulled him along. Their faces were bright with joy.

"Uh, Mama, that's scratchy!", Minhea said. She laughed and kissed them on their hair. Minhea's was wild and dark like hers. Iulia had the soft blond strands of her husband. In turn the girl looked just like her mother. But while Vladimira was slender, but strong, Iulia had an almost porcelain-like statuesque, like a doll about to break. She was always pale and a bit slower on reacting than others. But now this was almost gone. She was beaming.

"Did you kill a lot of enemies, Mama?", she asked excitedly. Minhea burrowed his face in the red cape. He was the wild one of them, always ready to cause mischief.

"Yes, I did. And I even got something for you." She grabbed the two items hidden under the cloak. "Right or left? And don't fight."

The children looked at each other, then Iulia pointed to her mother's left hand. Vladimira changed the items and held them out to them.

"Oh, great!", the girl exclaimed. It was a slender sword, more of a knife to an adult, but perfect for her. Minhea got an even smaller one. He needed to start his training soon. Minhea would be a great warrior once. As to her daughter... she didn't really want to risk it. But that didn't matter. She loved them anyway.

Iulia pointed her sword at her mother. "I challenge you!"

"Well, did you train hard? What does your father say?"

"She better shows you herself." Vladimira looked up and met her husband's green eyes. Once again she thought how handsome he was, tall and broad-shouldered, with the unusual blond hair and the scar on his cheek. She could fall in love every time she saw him anew. He smiled at her, leaned on his crutch. A battle wound that had left him crippled four years ago. He had been a good warrior. But now he was content with staying home and watching the children, while Vladimira was defending their country. She could never thank him enough for that.

Vladimira grabbed the wooden sword always stored here for these purposes. Iulia's blows were still a bit weak to injure anyone even without an armor, but her technique had gotten considerably better. Her mother blocked a few of the blows and let some through, while Iulia tried to use everything she knew, a look of intense concentration on her face.

"Minhea, help your sister, would you?", their father said. Minhea looked at him, unsure what to do, then rushed to his sister's aid, just to trip. Vladimira had to change her position so as not to injure him and lost her balance. She landed on her bottom, the armor rattling loudly. She dropped the sword. "I yield!", she exclaimed, laughing. "I yield. You win." Iulia beamed.

"Now, you two, you can still play a bit in the yard. I'll tell you about the battle this evening."

"Promise?", Iulia asked, her green eyes shining.

"Promise." They started running for the door.

"Now, how about me? Am I not interesting anymore now that your mother is home?", their father called them back. Iulia and Minhea giggled and returned to hug him. They seemed tiny in comparison. Vladimira looked at them and felt herself grow calmer. Warmth spread through her body as a tender smile appeared on her face. Her family, her love, everything she held dear.

Iulia and Minhea hugged their father and received a kiss on the head before running out, making as much noise as possible. Vladimira looked until they had disappeared around a corner. A still strong arm wrapped around her waist and almost picked her up. She leaned back her head and felt the comforting warmth of his embrace, smelled the pleasant scent of leather and wood. "Welcome home, my princess," her husband said softly.

Vladimira turned her head and kissed him deeply. "I don't know what I would do without you, dragostea."

He rested his chin on her shoulder. "You sound concerned."

"You know me too well, Alexandru. The Turks are not beaten yet. But maybe I'm just paranoid."

He caressed her cheek. "If you say there is something to come, then I trust your intuition. You should do that, too. Has it ever failed you?"

She sighed and turned around completely, putting her arms around his neck. "No. And that's the problem."

_Three weeks later_

"Princess!" Vladimira was awake in less than five seconds. Stanislav was out of breath and very pale. He was in his 50s, after all, not made for any kind of trouble anymore. "Radu is coming," he panted.

She was already out of bed and putting on her armor, not caring who might look. "Where are Iulia and Minhea?"

"Sleeping. I didn't dare to involve anyone else."

"Get the horses ready, I'll bring them. We leave at once."

"Yes, princess." Stanislav bowed and rushed down the hallway.

Movement behind her. Alexandru pushed his stiff leg out of the bed. Vladimira put on the red cloak and gave him a brief smile. "I'll be right back."

He laughed, a terrible, loving sadness in his eyes. "No, my dear, I will stay. I can't ride with this leg."

"Nonsense!", she snapped. "I'll bring the children to Stanislav and then get you. We can ride together."

"The horse will not be able to carry us both far."

"We'll see."

"I'll only slow you down."

She put on her sword and went over to him. Despite the chaos gnawing at her thoughts she sat down and laid a hand in his neck, her forehead against his. "I will not leave you behind." She pronounced every word.

Alexandru stroked her hair and closed his eyes. They kissed. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She caressed his face. "Wait her, dragostea." She stood up. Alexandru held her hand for a moment longer. "Te iubesc."

Vladimira hurried down the hallway to the bedchamber of her children. They were still sleeping peacefully. Vladimira gently shook them. "Iulia, Mihnea, wake up." Mihnea was awake first, like always. "What's happening, mother?" She picked him up and helped the little boy in his clothes. "We have to leave."

Iulia hadn't stirred yet. Vladimira pushed away the blond strands from her face. The girl's skin was icy and pale. Vladimira felt the familiar cold forming inside her body. Her mind was sharp, devoid of emotions. Just like in a battle.

"Minhea, what did you do yesterday? Did she eat something you didn't?" How probable was it that a three-year-old remembered such things?

"A nice man gave us some mushrooms. I didn't like them. They tasted weird." Iulia's lips were almost black in the twilight. She had always been so beautiful and fragile. Vladimira bent down and kissed her icy forehead, closing her eyes for a moment and taking in the familiar smell one last time.

"What's wrong with her?" Mihnea stared at his sister in anxious confusion.

"Iulia will stay here." Vladimira picked up her son and carried him out of the castle. Stanislav had the horses ready.

"Where's the little princess?" A look into her pained eyes made him stop asking.

"Take Minhea as far as you can. We'll go to Transylvania. Matthias Corvinus will give us shelter. I'll get Alexandru and we meet later."

Stanislav nodded and mounted his horse. Vladimira sat Minhea in front of him. Minhea wanted to hold on, his eyes full of fear. "Don't worry, my dear, it will be alright." Stanislav spurred the horse and they quickly disappeared. Vladimira turned around and ran back the way she had come. The armor was loud, but she had no choice. How long did they have until her treacherous brother arrived? If Radu had agents in the castle she would fight her way out. But the hallways were empty.

She didn't dare looking into her children's chamber again.

She rounded the next corner. "Alex!" She stopped dead in the door of their bedroom. Again, that blankness in her mind.

Alexandru's legs weren't equally long, not even now, hanging free. They gently swung from one side to the other. It was a miracle this had worked, tall as he was.

"You idiot," Vladimira whispered. She drew her sword. One blow severed the thick rope. He fell into her arms, his weight almost making her fall. She could almost feel his life leaving just now. If only she had been faster.

Sheathing her sword, she carried him to the bed and placed him there. She cut the noose from his neck and threw it away, her hand shaking with anger. "Why didn't you wait? I told you to, my love, didn't I?"

She rested her head on his chest, searching for the familiar heartbeat. Nothing.

Radu would be here soon. Vladimira didn't move, her hands caressing her husband's still warm skin. She wished she could cry, like she had as a young woman. Would it ease the pain tearing at her insides?

She kissed him, feeling the warmth of his soft lips, smelling his familiar scent. "Farewell, my love. _Adio._" She kissed him again, brushing through his soft hair. Then she stood up.

He looked peaceful and kind, like he had always been, despite being a warrior.

Vladimira ran down the hallway. Radu could very well be knocking on the front door. She would love to stay back and fight, but Mihnea still needed her. She had to go on.

She jumped on her horse. It broke into gallop immediately, leaving the castle behind. She didn't look back. It had to be the wind that made her eyes water.


	2. The song remains the same

As requested here is the second part of Mira's story. This chapter is for **Little Miss actress** who asked me for the sequel.

**!Important info!** While the first chapter was a spin-off, this one is set during the storyline of my headcanon "Renegade". Little explanation beforehand, so you can enjoy it independently:

\- Head of Hellsing is Caitlyn Hellsing, some cousin of Integra (Sir Hellsing unfortunately didn't... make it).

\- Walter is a vampire.

That's already it. For more about them check out Renegade, I'd love to get some feedback on the concept. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 2: The song remains the same**

_Outskirts of Badrick, Northern Ireland, August 15th, 2016_

"I've arrived."

"Okay then," Caitlyn said. Mira could literally hear her pacing up and down. It was such a hustle the last weeks. Everywhere the freak vampires were popping up. This didn't make sense a bit.

A ghoul ran at her and Mira took him out with one shot. You couldn't even have a conversation without being interrupted.

"I'll call again when I'm done," Mira proposed.

"Yes," Caitlyn said. "Thank you. Walter, can you make me a tea please?"

Mira heard his voice in the background. "Of course, Sir Hellsing." An annoyed shrug. She hated being called a Sir.

"Try to find out what's going on with these... whatever."

"Yes, Master." Mira hung up and put the phone away. The house was derelict, but huge, stretching into both directions. The full moon was hanging low over it. What a beautiful night. She wished Walter was here. They could have a lot of fun.

Mira walked up to the entrance. The ghouls could be heard even by humans now. At least two dozens, or more, she thought. Humans, that had wanted to explore the "haunted" house. Humans were fascinating creatures, but oh so stupid at times. She smiled and pushed the hat out of her face to have a last look at the moon. It was the same that had accompanied her when she fled the castle Poienari, so many years ago. Why was she thinking of that now?

Alexandru. Her love, her family. She could almost smell him. Wood, leather... raspberries?

Nonsense. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She was just too nostalgic at times. She quickened her steps and entered the building. Ghouls everywhere. Mostly brave and stupid teenagers trying to impress their friends. She sighed. What a mess.

The vampire was probably upstairs, shielded by his army. Just another third- or fourth-rate nobody. The question was: Why so many? Mira had been around for a while and never encountered so many freshly turned vampires and their ghouls in such a short time. It was the perfect method of spreading chaos of course. That was what she would do. Could it be...?

No. That was ridiculous. This had ended such a long time ago. But she found she couldn't get rid of the thought. _After seventy years? _She emptied the magazine into the next swarm of ghouls and exchanged the clip.

Having a partner to talk to now would be "grand", like Caitlyn liked to say. Walter would probably need less than a minute for this and it would save her a few bullets. Not that she needed to be economical. This was basically the first time she ever thought about this.

She took out the next ghouls. Was that all? What did she need any help for? The vampire queen didn't. She was the trump card and Walter needed to watch out for their Master. God, she was bored out of her mind. She missed a good fight. Or at least a good talk.

She thought about her family again. Why now? Such a long time ago. Sitting in front of the fire, telling Iulia and Minhea stories. When the children slept, she talked about other things with her husband. Her first husband, obviously. Mathias Corvinus' cousin had been a political marriage. He had never been as considerate as Alex or as gentle. She had been happy to escape the castles at any time possible.

Mira sighed. She hadn't thought about her past for a long time and now so often?

The corridor was empty now, except for the remains of the ghouls. The house reminded her a bit of Hellsing mansion, with the paneled walls and long corridors. There was probably a basement somewhere, too. It had gone quiet, except for a few leftover ghouls somewhere in the back. Then she could go on to the host vampire. Who was he, why did he become a midian? Did he choose to? Her mental state was going steeply downhill if she actually thought about this.

Mira closed her eyes and let her shadow do its work. "Come out, where ever you are," she chirped. "There's no point in hiding."

Then a blade pierced her neck. "Huh?", she managed, before more of them dug into her torso. Mira fell on her butt, momentarily dumbfounded. A barricade had appeared, effectively locking her in. Not that she wanted to run. She had forgotten all about the other vampire, or her mission, or even her own blood pooling on the floor.

She could only see the familiar shape. The broad shoulders and square face. The scar was different, but it was there, from the jaw almost to the nose. Short blond hair, now standing upright in a modern fashion. He wore a long coat and glasses. But the eyes were the same.

He descended the staircase and stopped in front of the window, the moon in his back.

For a moment of horror she thought he was the vampire she was here to destroy. But no, he was human. Blood was trickling from the blades in his hands. Blessed bayonets. On the collar was a flash of white. A priest.

"Alexandru?" Her voice was so quiet she almost didn't hear it herself. After all those years. After all those years, her husband had come back to her.

She suddenly became aware he probably could barely see her in the darkness. But she could see him, the grin spreading on his face. The blood had to belong to the vampire she was here to kill. Then why were there ghouls that were still alive?

Alexandru formed a cross with the bayonets. "We are God's representatives, earthly agents o' divine punishment. Oor mission is tae destroy doon tae the last wee bit thae fools wha' would oppose oor God. Amen," he intoned. The same beautiful voice. Except for the accent. Was he _scottish_?!

Her gaze fell on the gloves he wore. _Section XIII? _Well, he had always been Catholic.

When realization hit, it hit with the force of a coffin lid thumping shut. Her Alexandru was the enemy and she had her orders. There was no choice, never had been.

She had to kill him.

_Hellsing mansion_

Caitlyn closed the book. She had sworn to herself to read other things, but she always came back to Shakespeare somehow. Especially in times like this. She told herself she shouldn't be too upset and finished her tea. Mira knew what she was doing.

The door slammed open. She had the strong urge to yell at the visitor for not even knocking, but the man was so panicked she didn't. "Sir Hellsing! A report from our Vatican attaché!" He was frantically waving a sheet of paper before stopping abruptly and trying a salute. Caitlyn hadn't even been consciously aware that they had a Vatican attaché. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer, obviously.

"What?", she sighed. It was way too late in the night for such a turmoil. And no need to scream like that, for God's sake. The man stared at the paper while reading the information aloud. Caitlyn rubbed her temples, but didn't interrupt. "The Vatican... Section XIII, the specialized secret agency Iscariot is on the move!"

Caitlyn looked at him. He obviously expected some angry or shocked reaction. Who the hell was Section XIII? She vaguely remembered the name turning up sometime, but the Round Table had taken those "responsibilities" without asking. There was one thing... Penwood had called them "the dirtiest of the dirty". Caitlyn's mental equivalent had been "They were devils incarnate". _A secret organization? Where are we, in a John Le Carré novel?_

"Director Hellsing?", the man – the name tag said Derek Dionysus, quite an interesting name – asked nervously. Caitlyn extended a hand to take the report. "Thank you. I will take care of it."

Dionysus stared at her for a moment, unsure how to take this reaction. Then he nodded and left, throwing back a confused glance before shutting the door. Caitlyn looked at the report. Badrick, an abandoned mansion. It was near the border between Catholic and Protestant territory. On the Protestant side, though. _Not again that bullshit_, she thought.

"Any plans how to react?" Caitlyn winced. Walter smiled innocently. She glared at him, until a yawn interrupted her. It was the middle of the night and now this happened. Awesome.

"Who is Iscariot?" Thank God this didn't happen in front of the old farts.

Her butler sat on the edge of the table and got a short glance at the report. "They've dispatched Alexander Anderson? No wonder everyone is freaking out."

Caitlyn glared at him. "Walter."

"Sorry, Master. Iscariot is basically the Vatican's unofficial hit squad. They're experts in exorcism, oppressing pagans and exterminating heretics. Like protestants." _Oh God_. Caitlyn rubbed her temples. First the vampires, now she had to deal with some crazy Catholics too? In which century were they living?

"It's the single strongest force the Vatican possesses. Bearing the name of Judas, Section XIII is not supposed to exist." Walter seemed to enjoy this story. He was just waiting to be sent into battle. Typical.

"Fine then. Why would they go to Badrick? It's Protestant land."

A charming smile. Caitlyn forced herself not to think too much about it. "The Iscariots don't care about that. And Alexander Anderson, the bayonet priest..."

"What?"

"Bayonet Priest, Killing Judge Anderson, Angel Dust Anderson... There's not much known about him except for the nicknames. But he's a warrior and a supernatural creature specialist."

_The perfect match for Mira. If he can take a few bullets. _"So he's their trump card, basically," she concluded. This was worse than she had thought. If Mira encountered him – luckily the site should be abandoned. But still. The old men would be up her ass if she didn't do anything.

"What about the Vatican? We'll need to contact them about this."

"The archbishop of Canterbury is in touch. I also put two of our units on standby on your behalf. I hear Sir Walsh is waiting to 'help out'."

Caitlyn gritted her teeth. Of course. They were just waiting for the next chance to blame her for whatever. Like vultures. "Thank you." She looked at the closed book on her desk.

_The croaking raven doth bellow for revenge. _

In this case, it would be the royal vultures, of course. Fine then. "I'll go to Badrick myself. The units stay on standby. Mobilizing just gets us into more trouble with the Vatican."

Another grin, and flashing red eyes. He changed his shape to the boy he had always been and always would be. They would encounter Father Anderson and then... Caitlyn didn't even want to think about it. That Anderson and Mira – a catastrophe. But that Anderson and _two _vampires... What was the superlative of a catastrophe? "Walter, you are responsible for the negotiations with the Vatican. I need two guards."

For a moment he just stared at her. "Of course, Sir Hellsing." His voice was strained with anger and disappointment. Caitlyn had not really expected anything else, but she was glad he was on her side anyway. She stood up and hurried out of her office.

There was only to hope Mira had not yet encountered Paladin Alexander Anderson. For some reason she had no real faith in this wish.

_Abandoned mansion outside Badrick_

Alexandru grinned at her. He looked her up and down as if he saw her for the first time. Maybe he did. Or thought he did. "Nice moon oot, ah? Ye freak."

She could only look at him. "It's been a while," she said eventually.

He frowned. "Ah'm sure Ah'd remember ever meeting ae Hellsing moongrel."

"But I remember." She looked down at the bayonets. "I do."

He didn't seem to listen. "My my, whit ae sweet voice," he jeered. Mira had to fight back a smile. God, this accent was killing her. If he could hear himself. Of course, her Alexandru had never spoke, not even heard English or Scottish. "It's been ae lang time since Ah went vampire hoontin'. Got tae hae some fun." She pulled out the bayonets one by one. He wouldn't stop her. Alexandru had always had a tendency to talk too long before acting if he was in the superior position. Or thought he was.

She found she would enjoy a fight. Even against him. "Vatican Section XIII. Secret Service Iscariot," she said softly. A warrior like him... of course he would always stay a warrior. Some things never changed. It was just sad that they were on opposite sides all of a sudden. "Is your leg alright again?", she asked.

He stopped and stared at her. "Hou did ye ken tha'?" She had gotten rid of all the bayonets and stood up. "Just... just a question." She grinned.

Deep down, suddenly she found she didn't want to. She didn't want to kill him. If she had to beat him, yes, she would. But not end his life. She rather wanted to show him who he was. Who _she _was.

"Alexandru, I -"

"Sae ye're Alucard," he said, ignoring her. Not even that. The words had been too quiet to be heard by a human. She almost flinched. Hearing this stupid name in his voice...

"Mira," she said.

"Whit?"

"My name is Vladimira. Mira for short."

"Well, then. _Mira_." They strolled up to each other like they were old friends. Mira suddenly wondered what he would do if she just kissed him. Would he remember who she was? What a stupid thought. Of course he wouldn't. This was not Alexandru. He just looked like him. A coincidence. She would get rid of him and then call it a night. Caitlyn was probably going crazy with worry. The old men always tried to bully her. As her loyal servant Mira could not allow that.

"What about the other vampire?", she asked, more to keep the conversation up. For once it was not her memories bringing her the sound of his voice.

"Ah dealt wi' him ae while ago. The only yin left is ye filth."

"You don't say," she muttered. When was the last time she had not looked forward to fighting and killing?

What was she going on about anyway? A monster like her had no right, no _possibility _to experience love or grief. That was what made her a vampire. Only humans had such deep feelings.

She automatically fired the Casull when the blades pierced her throat. That hurt a lot more than expected. Blessed blades. Not bad... For a human. The shot missed. She had not really aimed anyway. "Thon maun really hurt, lassie," the priest laughed. Yes, vampires did feel pain. It just didn't paralyze them like humans. He knew that and enjoyed it. Had Alexandru ever been sadistic? No. That had been her.

"You do like to be the dominant one, don't you, dragostea?", she purred. "Preferring to be on top, don't you?" She took a moment to enjoy the mixture of confusion and discomfort he couldn't hide.

The bullet hit him in the head. In a splatter of blood, he was thrown back and ended up in a sitting position on the paneled wall. Mira pulled the bayonet out of her throat. Not bad at all. Attacking a vampire head on at night was a brave act. He had guts. She had to give him that. But bravery and foolishness were sometimes one and the same thing. That was how it was with humans. Always had been.

"Goodbye Alexandru." She shook her head. What was she saying? That was not her Alexandru. He was dead for many, many years, barely more than a skeleton in the ground. She didn't even know what had happened to his corpse.

Now then, she should take care of the remaining ghouls. Aside from that, if the host vampire was dead, why were they still around anyway? She couldn't silence the suspicion in the back of her head. Or the soft chuckle she had loved so much when her husband was still alive and had missed so dealy after his demise.

…Wait. What?

"Ah'd love tae ken hou ye'd found oot ma name. But Ah'm afraid we dinnae have time tae chat."

Not even Mira's quick reflexes could prevent two bayonets piercing her torso. "The hell?!" She somehow freed herself and put distance between them. A human able to match her supernatural strength was... strange. His chuckle had turned into an outright mad laugh. Mira felt a smile spread on her face. Finally a worthy enemy to relieve the boredom. What did it matter that he looked like her Alex?

Blood splattered when another bullet hit him right between the eyebrows. Again, he was thrown back, but now he actually managed to catch himself on his hands and spring to his feet again. Smoke rose from the furrowed skin.

"A regenerator?", Mira realized. She had heard of them, but never thought the process could be finished. The thought was... almost frightening. Damning a human to something similar to eternal life. The worst fate possible.

But the priest didn't seem to realize this. "Aye! Ae technique humanity had tae develop tae fight the likes o' ye!" She wanted to shoot again, but he grabbed her arm and the bayonets burrowed into her hands, pinning them to the wall. "Amen!" She looked into his green eyes. It was the same shade it had been. The wound in his head closed as if it had never been there.

Mira tasted her own blood and felt the pain when the bayonets ripped her body to shreds. She could hear mad laughter. But that didn't matter. She could see those beautiful eyes. His voice accompanied her into the darkness.

She had always been a warrior. She had never learned anything else. The years with her father and brother had been good ones. Then he brought her to the Turks. At first it had not been too bad. The occasional whipping had been due to her stubbornness. She had cut off her hair. Otherwise she had always been an androgynous child. But the years passed and this changed. A lot of things changed. And then she returned to her home country and met Alexandru.

Ironically the marriage had not been her idea in the first place. She would have been happy to spend her days alone. But a ruler, especially a female, needed a partner. A husband, a master, basically. She knew he liked her and she liked him. He was sympathetic, despite the threatening appearance. He had been a lot less bossy than the other "candidates" and she liked that. But it was not like she wanted to spend her life with him or even get intimate. She was over that for good. The lone thought was repulsive. Maybe children wouldn't be so bad but everything that led to it she could really do without.

Mira lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She was a warrior. Just not now. Now she was a wife waiting for her husband the first night after their marriage. And even a warrior was afraid of something. Suddenly, she hated him for agreeing to this and herself for letting it happen.

"Why the dour face?" Mira winced miserably and shot up. She was only wearing a thin nightgown and the air was cold against her skin. Alexandru sat down on the bed, stripped of the formal clothes the marriage expected. His body had been formed by years of fighting, including scars like the one in his face. But she was no different. Suddenly she realized this was uncomfortable for him too. At least a bit. The sultan had not really made a secret of what she had experienced. She was... yes, used ware, queen or not.

And Mira couldn't avoid admitting to herself that she was afraid. Maybe it could be nice. But the warden and the sultan had taken the desire to find out from her before she was old enough to wish for it. Bastards. She would get her revenge. Someday, she would.

This was when a giant, but gentle hand stroked her cheek. "There is no need to worry." She didn't wince this time, only looked up sharply to meet those unusual green eyes. She had never seen anything comparable. Not that bright green of leaves in summer. Most others around here had dark eyes, occasionally blue or a lighter shade of brown. Not green. And his yellow hair stood out of the crowd like a light in the darkness. Not that you could overlook him anyway.

Hesitating, she extended a hand and laid her arm around his neck. He pulled her on his lap where she could actually sit comfortable. "We're a married couple now," she said slowly. The words just didn't want to make sense. They had known each other for maybe half a year and now they were to spend their life together, get children.

But maybe... maybe this could work. He caressed her arms and opened the knot holding the top of her nightgown. Mira stiffened. But he only kissed her neck. The stubble on his jaw tickled her skin. This... this actually felt good. No man had been so gentle before. She smelled wood and leather and a hint of some fruit. Maybe raspberries? But no, they were out of season.

"Yes," he said softly. "And as your husband it is my duty to make you happy. Are you happy, draga mea?"

She didn't know how to answer that. Was she happy? "I- I don't know." She sounded like a frightened little girl. The same frightened little girl the warden at Egrigötz had tormented and toyed with until she had only the scratch of self-respect and no dignity left.

Was she _crying_? Yes. He wiped away her tears and kissed her, gently, on the lips. Mira closed her eyes and ran a hand through his soft hair. Her husband's arms were comforting. His warmth and strength embraced her, the booming voice muttered soft words of... love. This had not been her choice. But maybe, just maybe she could love him.

"Mira," he said softly, so compassionate her heart seemed to burst. He was hers. Hers and no one else's. This might very well be the most wonderful thing in the world.

She smiled. "Alexandru. My Alexandru."

"Mira."

No. No, this was wrong. This was not Alexandru. It was a woman's voice. And she was not gentle and soothing. She was panicking. "MIRA!"

The vampire queen opened her eyes. This was not Rumania. It was not 1452. Her Alex was dead for a long time and she would never feel his caress again. She didn't deserve it. A monster didn't feel. Didn't love. Her purpose was to serve.

The priest looking like Alexandru had buried two bayonets in the wall, just centimeters from Lady Caitlyn's head. She had her sword drawn, but obviously she had done quite poorly against somebody like Anderson. Not a big surprise, but she could at least hold the rapier correctly. She was the one calling the vampire's name, calling for her servant to fulfill her duty.

And now she could hear the priest again, that fool who had the voice and appearance of the man she once loved. "Cry a' ye want, Babylon. She canna hear ye anymore. Yer high n' mighty _Alucard_. Calling herself Mira. Jessies. Whit ae joke. Lost her heid. Ah sawed it right aff."

"D-Did you?", Caitlyn stuttered. She couldn't hide her fear. But she would get through it. She was a tough girl. "You can't win, Anderson. If you want to live, better go now." Anderson, so that was his name. Alexandru... no Alexander, in the language of this country. Alexander Anderson. She had heard that name before, without paying closer attention. Alexander was such a common name after all.

"Ah will efter Ah've finished ye aff, fool wench."

"Well, I guess you got to hurry then."

"Whit?"

"As I see it, just cutting off the head doesn't stop somebody like Mira."

Mira closed her eyes again. Her head had been nailed to the wall with a bayonet. How crude. But he was at it with enthusiasm at least. She heard him cry out when the bats separated him from Caitlyn Hellsing. Mira felt her head flow into formlessness. It didn't matter. Her mind was free of those physical limitations. Her body was covered in bats, was made of them, was being rebuilt by the second. This was just for show of course. Alexandru should know what he was at. And Caitlyn. There was bloodshed to come, just like the blood of her unfortunate bodyguards. She would have been better off with Walter at her side. Caitlyn could not flinch from every fight. Now she was still a little girl. She was vulnerable.

It only took Mira seconds to stand on her own two feet again. She grinned at the two. The priest stared at her. Suddenly he grinned. It was the same she remembered. Maybe...

"Tha' figures. There's nae way Ah can kill her wi' the gear Ah've got noo." He opened a bible and the pages began to float by their own account. "We'll meet again, Hellsing!" She caught a glimpse of his grin. "Next time, Ah'll kill a' o' ye!"

Just like that, he was gone. Mira stared at the spot he had just been standing for a moment longer, until she heard Caitlyn sheathing her sword. An intuition and her vampiric speed were the only things enabling Mira to catch her master before she collapsed. Caitlyn was pale, her eyes fixed on the corpses of her two bodyguards. "Thank you," she murmured, getting to her feet again. She was shaking so badly Mira wasn't sure if she should let her go. But Caitlyn didn't cry. She was a tough girl. "How do you feel?"

Mira thought of the moment she realized it was Alexandru – no, that he looked like Alexandru. She wouldn't be surprised if that had been a trick just to confuse her. "Been a long time since my head got plucked off," she said lightly. "So that's Father Anderson."

Caitlyn nodded absently. "Did you find out anything?"

"Yes, Master. But that can wait until we are back. This will prove a big demerit for the Vatican, right?"

Caitlyn followed her, absently trying to contact her agents. She probably wanted these men properly buried. They deserved it. Again Mira wondered: What had happened to Alexandru's body? She had always wanted to see him again. And now? Now they had met again, just like she wanted. They had met again, but both were not the same anymore.

And she couldn't decide if this was good or bad.


End file.
